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Do you think my mind is maturing late, or simply rotted early?

Ogden Nash

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Ogden Nash
Age: 68 †
Born: 1902
Born: August 19
Died: 1971
Died: May 19
Poet
Screenwriter
Writer
New York
United States
Frederic Ogden Nash
Early
Late
Simply
Mind
Love
Rotted
Think
Maturing
Thinking
Mature
Aging

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In the world of mules there are no rules.
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Some people's money is merited and other people's is inherited.
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Linguistics becomes an ever eerier area, like I feel like I'm in Oz, Just trying to tell it like it was.
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One would be in less danger From the wiles of the stranger If one's own kin and kith Were more fun to be with.
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It is my duty, gentlemen, to inform you that women are dictators all, and I recommend to you this moral: In real life it takes only one to make a quarrel.
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Passivity can be a provoking modus operandi Consider the Empire and Gandhi.
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A lady is known by the product she endorses.
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O money, money, money. I'm not necessarily one of those who think thee holy, but I often stop to wonder how thou canst go out so fast when thou comest in so slowly.
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Your hair may be brushed, but your mind's untidy. You've had about seven hours of sleep since Friday. No wonder you feel that lost sensation. You're sunk from a riot of relaxation.
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Certainly there are lots of things in life that money won't buy, but it's very funny- Have you ever tried to buy them without money?
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Commitments the voters don't know about can't hurt you.
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There once was an umpire whose vision Was cause for abuse and derision He remarked in surprise, 'Why pick on my eyes? It's my heart that dictates my decision.'
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In real life, it takes only one to make a quarrel.
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I'd rather be a great bad poet than a good bad poet.
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Here's a toast to the roast that good fellowship lends, with the sparkle of beer and wine May its sentiment always be deeper, my friends, than the foam at the top of the stein. Then here's to the heartening wassail, wherever good fellows are found Be its master instead of its vassal, and order the glasses around.
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Too much Chablis can make you whablis.
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Some hate broccoli, some hate bacon I hate having my picture taken. How can your family claim to love you And then demand a picture of you?
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Why did the Lord give use so much quickness unless it was to avoid responsibility?
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Ten years ago she split the air To seize what she could spy Tonight she bumps against a chair, Betrayed by milky eye. She seems to pant, Time up, time up! My little dog must die, And lie in dust with Hector's pup I So, presently, must I.
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We love the kindly wind and hail, The jolly thunderbolt, We watch in glee the fairy trail Of ampere, watt, and volt.
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